I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog! -Emily Dickinson

Friday, 2 December 2011

A LETTER TO MY DOCTORS

December 2, 2011Dear Doctors:Last night I dreamed that I could not
recognize your faces. I tried to recall haircuts, eye brows, eyes or other
features, but I could not make the connections. I realize this is a shadow of
the fear I feel when I look in the mirror and a face I hardly recognize looks
back at me. That changed face matches the life I barely recognize and reflects
the apprehension I now live with, day to day.

I sailed through brain surgery with little
more than the loss of my hair - which had been my pride and joy. I was so
relieved to be divested of vertigo, nausea, headaches and loss of motor
control, that I felt better than I had in many months, and when the results
came back on the biopsy of my brain tumour and I asked one of the surgeons about
my prognosis, I rejected the first thing he told me - which was that
statistically, I had 40 weeks to live. He added that he'd had a patient with a
similar condition who was, as far as they could see, cancer-free, five years
later. That would be me, I decided. Cancer-free in five years.

Now I'm not so sure that wasn't denial.

When I first met Dr. B, I told him I
didn't want to see my death sentence on my Doctor's faces - but that I wanted,
(perhaps paradoxically I think now) to be told the truth.

As it is, I'm not at all sure that I know
the truth, or perhaps more accurately, I do not know the possibilities.

I thought, when I began chemo, that the
idea was to render the tumour in my lung harmless. When I met with Dr. R., he
told me that surgery would be performed if there was anything left after the
chemo - that he would remove whatever was left and clean up the edges. Now
radiation has been added and according to Dr. B., that is to stop the tumour
from continuing to spread. Dr. M. tells me that there is no chance the tumour
can be rendered benign. There is to be no surgery. Or at least, this is what I
think I'm hearing.

And I have a hard time not hearing my death sentence in your
answers and in your silences.

So, without asking you to predict, I am asking
you to use your experience, medical knowledge and your intuition – to try to
answer some questions: What exactly is the chemo and radiation
expected to accomplish? Given that I face the possibility of other
complications arising from both treatments, some of them serious and possibly
permanent, is this first round of treatment and the radiation on my brain
administered in the hope of giving me the possibility of a significant period
of remission - a year, two years or more? Or do you believe, collectively or
individually that even with this treatment,it is likely Ihave less than a
year?

Dr. B. tells me there is a chance that the
cancer has spread to other areas not yet detectable on scans. Emotionally, this
is far cry from the hearing, to my great relief that nothing else showed on the
PET scan results.

Supposing that the cancer has spread, am I
looking at repeatedly facing chemo and radiation treatments?A clearer picture of the possibilities
would greatly help me come to terms to the emotional impact of all this. As it
is, I barely recognize my life and have no idea what lies ahead. If I am
looking at death sooner than later, I would like the opportunity to try to make
peace with that. If the cancer goes on spreading, I have decisions to consider -
and I need to know what will happen if I refuse further treatment. I need to
know what my death might look like and what can be done for me in a palliative
care setting.

If there is any chance of a decent length
of remission, I need to know that too. As you can imagine, it is difficult to
keep a positive attitude when so littleI am being told seems to indicate a reason for hope. I have always been a fighter and I am
willing to do what I have to survive - providing that I can survive with a
decent quality of life and most of my faculties intact.

If you feel that there is any hope for that, I really need to
hear it from you. Without asking you to guarantee anything and knowing that you
have no crystal ball to consult, but based on your experience, I very much need
to know what the various outcomes might
be. I can hear whatever you can tell me, even if the news is bad, provided it
is told to me in a humane and not simply clinical fashion.

I am sending this letter to you in the
hope that you will have a little time to consider my questions – rather than
blindsiding you during the limited time we have for consultation.

In closing, I would like to thank you. I
know that you are all doing your best for me and I am grateful to be in skilled
hands. All I ask is for a little more clarity and for you to trust that I need
this in order to be able to handle the difficult life changes I am
experiencing.

9 comments:

My heart goes out to you, Linda. I hope you sent this to those who may (or may not) be able to answer your honest and justified questions. I hope their answers are truthful but told with love and not clinical detachment. I hope their answers provide you with hope and cause for optimism. If not, I hope they provide you with strength.

This letter has such a powerful force around it. After a grand pause upon arriving at your signature, I must comment to let you know I witnessed this and am deeply moved, but the only words surfacing in my mind, behind my teary, awe-struck eyes -- Fierce. And courageous. I love you. xo

it took me a bit to read your post as it hits close to home. Having 2 family members pass away recently from cancer. I would ask the same of my doctors. and expect a straight answer, so that i could live my life to the fullest. my biggest hugs go to you and you are in my thoughts.

I do not even know you beautiful but my heart feels for you. And I have released all the butterflies and rainbows to carry you through whatever endeavors you face. Please know , that heart and souls , from wherever are so touched ad ahve learned the defination of "foregiveness" from your wordsAngels be with you always!Nanci

And so I have to say the only thing you can do is to put your affairs in order (while you still can) and then LIVE every moment to the fullest. Share, care, love, laugh and just BE. In between you will cry, rant, be overwhelmed and feel alone as well as other things.Surround yourself with the best you can give you.I know this because whilst you are asking questions about your treatment I am still asking for answers about what is wrong.The only way to have any life left is to live every moment right now.I send you Love and Care and hold you in my thoughts.

These letters were mailed yesterday - and I'm hoping that they will lead to more thorough explanations. I notice that Brian has actually given me a better idea of what they're up to in his comment in my last entry. Still, I should be getting this information from my own doctors. The idea to write them came up through talking to a spiritual advisor I met in the chemo clinic. We had a great talk the other day when I was very upset - and through our conversation I realized that I couldn't handle having so many questions and so few answers. Thank you all for your kind comments.

I think of you often, Linda, with awe and admiration for the strength and grace you've brought to this difficult journey. I'll be adding my prayers and good wishes to those of so many others. May you find answers and peace.